


Everybody's Changing

by anneapocalypse



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Chorus (Red vs. Blue), Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 19:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18745783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneapocalypse/pseuds/anneapocalypse
Summary: Even after the war, Chorus is always in flux. It's a changing world out there. Sometimes you need a constant.





	Everybody's Changing

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-season 17. Same continuity as ["Hopes & Fears,"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747355) and kind of a happy sequel to ["Over,"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17699546) though you don't need to read those first.

 

It's chilly this morning, and Katie Jensen rolls out of bed and pulls on her old gray hoodie before even putting her glasses on.

It's silly to keep wearing it, maybe, when it's so worn out, and she really needs to figure out a way to patch the elbows, one of which has worn clean through. She _could_ get a new sweatshirt. An offworld import would cost an arm and a leg, but they do have textile production on Chorus again.

But it wouldn't be _this_ hoodie. Faded and pilled, with ragged cuffs and split seams, the drawstring from the hood long gone. Once bright red, the lettering on the front has worn away to a faint shadow: _ARMONIA MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY._

It's the one thing of her own she still has from before the war. And as ragged as it is, the heavy knit fabric hasn't lost all of its warmth. Pulled over a long-sleeved shirt, it's still cozy and soft and comforting.

And sometimes Katie just wants something old and familiar.

 

Sarita's already up and in the shower, so Katie gets coffee going and turns on the TV for something to listen to. She puts four slices of bread in the toaster and pushes the lever down. Neither of them are great cooks with like, real food. If she was up earlier, Katie might try her hand at eggs, but they both need to get to work, so toast and coffee will do.

The sound of the water stops. "Breakfast!" Katie calls.

Sarita pads out of the bathroom barefoot, wrapped up in her towel and hugging herself in the morning chill. Katie takes a moment to admire the pretty slope of her bare brown shoulders, and her hair falling over them in wet dark waves. "Can you butter mine? I'll be right there."

"Sure thing." It's still so cool to have fresh butter, not out of ten-year-old ration tins but in little hand-packed tubs from the farms outside Nova Armonia. It's pale this time of year, but still tastes good. Katie butters each piece of toast thoroughly and carries two plates to the table. She's pouring their coffee into two mismatched mugs by the time Sarita comes out of the bedroom, dressed in jeans and a pink sweatshirt, damp hair still loose. She comes over to Katie and Katie sets down the coffee pot as Sarita pulls her in for a kiss. "Thanks, babe."

Katie grins. "Love you."

 

They eat toast and drink coffee and half-watch the news. Katie thinks about turning it to a different channel. There's a nice local gardening channel she's gotten into in the past year, mostly farmers and homesteaders from outside the city doing tours and daily vlogs.

"Have you seen Captain Simmons since he's been back?" Sarita says, biting the corner off her second piece of toast.

Katie takes a fast swallow of coffee to buy a minute to answer. It goes down the wrong pipe, and she descends into a violent fit of coughing. Sarita jumps out of her seat but Katie puts a hand up, wheezes, hacks a few more times, and manages to clear her airway. Her eyes are watering. Sarita hands her a napkin and Katie takes off her glasses, blots her eyes, and blows her nose.

"Not yet," she says, hoarsely.

Sarita goes to the sink and pours her a glass of water, which Katie takes and sips gratefully. Her throat feels like it's been sanded now. Great way to start the day.

"Me either," Sarita says. "Captain Tucker's supposed to come by again today, though. He's so good with the kids."

Sarita works at one of the child care centers, caring for Chorus's new generation of children, all of them under 3 years old. It's strange to realized just how much life on Chorus had _stopped_ during the war. There's a huge gap between the youngest of the civil war veterans and the post-war baby boom. There just aren't children on Chorus in any numbers between the ages of 2 and 14.

"I can't _wait_ until they're old enough for soccer," says Sarita. "I've always wanted to coach little kids."

Katie giggles. "I thought you wanted to be a teacher."

"They go together," Sarita says. "You can be both."

"Guess so." Katie never did sports in school. Don't remember much about that. "You'll be a great coach."

Sarita grins. "Maybe Captain Simmons will teach too. I think he'd be a great teacher."

"Yeah," Katie says, and decides to chance another bite of toast. After she successfully chews and swallows, she says, "Are they—staying this time?"

Sarita's smile fades a little, and she takes a sip of her coffee. Pushes a lock of damp hair behind her ear. "I don't know. I hope so."

"Agent Carolina still has her place in the city," Katie says. The Freelancers have kept a lower profile since Wash's injury, but Carolina still shows up regularly at Kimball's side. Seems like _she_ plans on sticking around. "Maybe they'll all settle down here."

Sarita's eyes brighten a little. "That would be nice."

It would be nice. The truth is, _all_ the Reds and Blues seem to be keeping a lower profile since their return. It's rare to spot them in public. Can't blame them, Katie supposes; it's hard for them to even walk down the street without somebody wanting a photo or an autograph. They've barely been on the news, either, and the statements about what they've been doing since clearing Chorus of those attacks have been… vague. "Tying up some loose ends," is how Carolina put it. "Bigger and shinier bullshit," according to Captain Grif. Kimball went on record asking the residents of Chorus to respect their heroes' privacy, especially Agent Washington in his recovery.

So Katie's felt kind of awkward about the idea of calling up Captain Simmons and offering to give him a tour of the hydroponics building, even though she's dying to show him everything they've done. What if he thinks she's being pushy? What if he's too busy? What if he just… doesn't want to?

Sarita starts to say somethings else, but doesn't get very far, turning instead to look at the TV, and the familiar face of President Kimball.

"Chorus needs a diversity of voices," Kimball is saying. She stands tall, as always, shoulders back, head high, an air of dignity about her—something Katie always admired. Even in a jungle trench half covered in mud and her own blood, Kimball always managed to carry herself that way. Meanwhile Katie still can't get through breakfast without choking or snorting her coffee out her nose.

She almost misses the rest of what Kimball's saying, but Sarita is staring at the screen.

"—t is why I've decided not to run for a second term as your President," Kimball says, her dark eyes sweeping the array of microphones in front of her, and what must be a crowd at the Capitol building. "It has been an honor to serve you all, and I have faith that the next leader Chorus needs will emerge, and will also serve us well."

"She's not running?" Katie says. "How can she not be running?" Of course she knew the election was coming, the council had decided to set a two-year term at the start to limit the power of the office and all that but they hadn't set a term limit yet and—well, Kimball was such a _good_ President, everyone just assumed she would serve another, right? Almost two years out from the end of the war, Chorus was on its way to being a real society again—sure, things weren't perfect, but—

"Katie," Sarita says, putting a hand over hers and Katie realizes that her mind is racing in circles.

"She's a good President," Katie blurts out, "she _should_ run again, we need her, what's going to happen if—"

And that's the problem. If what? She doesn't even _know_ if what, she doesn't even _like_ politics, she's a _botanist_ , well, sort of even though she never officially finished her degree but neither did a lot of people, and she finally has a job doing what she always wanted and everything was going so _well_ and—

and what if Kimball leaves office and everything falls apart again?

Don't _cry,_ Katie, for heaven's sake. You were a soldier.

Katie swallows, and drinks the rest of her water. She doesn't choke this time.

"I wish she was, too," Sarita says finally, and squeezes her hand.

"It'll be okay, though," Katie says, trying to muster more confidence than she feels. "Right? I mean, it's an election. We get to vote on them."

Sarita nods, but there's uncertainty in her face too.

Katie sighs. "I know. I know things have to change. I'm being stupid. It's just—"

Sarita nods. "Yeah." She pauses for a beat and sips her coffee, then says, "It'll be okay."

And when she looks into her girlfriend's warm brown eyes, there's at least a part of Katie that believes that.

 

It's easier not to think about it at work, where Katie's day is filled with nutrient formulas and various subspecies of beans. Harmony Hydroponics might just be her favorite place in the world, after the apartment she shares with Sarita. It smells wet and green and wonderful and alive, and seeing the green shoots coming up from their clean white pipes always makes her feel good. Here, she can know she's doing good. She can _see_ it, every day.

Carolina is in today. She volunteers a few mornings a week, mostly cleaning pipes and trays and tables and floors. After all this time it's still a little still strange to see her out of armor, disarmingly small in her worn jeans and t-shirt with her hair in a careless ponytail, though the flex of her biceps still shows the power in her compact frame. After war, out of armor, something about Carolina is still a soldier.

Katie Jensen is not a soldier. Not anymore. And she's glad for that.

"Hey," she says to the former Freelancer, still a little shyly.

Carolina looks up her work with some surprise, but offers a friendly nod in return. "Hi, Jensen."

"How's it going?" Katie says.

"Just about done with this row," Carolina says, gesturing. "We're running a little low on cleaning solution—I put it on the reorder list. I'm probably going to have some extra time today, if there's anything else you want me to take care of."

She looks at Katie expectantly. Which, fair, because Katie is the one wearing a lab coat and a nametag here. But the fact that _Agent Carolina_ sees her as an authority figure, at least here in her workplace, is something Katie will never, ever get used to.

"Thanks," she says. "We got a shipment that still needs unloading, if you have the time, but don't feel obligated. …I meant how are _you_ , though?"

"Oh," Carolina says. "I'm—okay. How are you?"

"I'm good," Katie says. "Carolina, can I ask you something?"

Carolina straightens up. "Sure."

"Did you know Kimball wasn't running for a second term?"

Carolina takes a deep breath. "I knew before the press conference, yeah."

Of course Carolina knew. Katie wonders why she asked. The real question is something bigger, and something Katie can't figure out how to say, so she says instead, "Is she—is everything okay with her?"

Carolina's eyes dart away from a moment, and she shifts her weight and Katie realizes she's looking around the room to make sure no one's listening. "It's been—it's not an easy job, being in charge. She's okay. But she's ready for someone else to take the wheel for a while."

Katie nods, then asks, "Is Captain Simmons still in the city?"

"I think so," Carolina says, looking surprised. "You trying to get in touch with him?"

Katie looks down. "No—well, I mean, sort of. I just haven't seen him since they—since you all came back—you know?" Or Grif. Or Caboose.

"Call him up. I'm sure he'd be happy to hear from you."

"Yeah," Katie says. "Maybe I will."

 

It only occurs to her on the monorail on the way home that she never asked Carolina the real question: _Are you all staying?_ Maybe because she couldn't explain why she needed to know. Maybe because she didn't want to know at all.

Chorus survived for almost a year with them gone. And so much has changed since then. The blockade, the trade agreements, and so much rebuilding, putting their world back together. Moving in with Sarita, the food production co-operative and all the work they've done.

Everything changes, _has_ been changing ever since the war ended. Lots of it good.

She wishes she knew why it's still so hard, sometimes. Why she still dreads change so much.

 

Sarita is making dinner and Katie can smell it as soon as she steps inside, the smell of soy sauce and the boy choy and green onions she brought home yesterday sizzing in a pan, the warm steamy smell of cooking rice. Just the smell of food makes her feel a little better.

"Hey," she says. "Mind if I turn the TV off?" She's had enough news for one day.

Sarita waves. "Go for it."

 

Over dinner, Sarita chatters about her kids and the silly things they did today, and that makes Katie smile. She really should take an afternoon and go visit the day care sometime. It'd be nice to see kids again.

She doesn't realize she hasn't said a word about her own day until Sarita says, "How was work?"

"Work was—good," Katie says haltingly, because it _was,_ everything was fine, but that doesn't seem like the whole story. "Carolina was in today. She—" Katie winds a strip of sliced boy choy around her fork. "She said I should give Captain Simmons a call."

Sarita nods. "You should."

"I know. It's just."

Just what? Just that he might leave again, that they all might? What Katie loves about Sarita is that she doesn't say, _Just what?_ She only nods gently, letting Katie put her thoughts together.

"Everything's changing," Katie says finally. "All the time. I just don't know what it's gonna be next. You know?"

"Yeah," Sarita says immediately. "I do."

"I just…" Katie sets down her fork and sighs, feeling somehow helpless. "I wish _something_ was constant."

Sarita puts a hand over Katie's and is quiet for a long moment. It's nice, and Katie just enjoys the comfort of it for a moment, but when she looks up, Sarita looks like she's trying to work up to something, and Katie feels like she's seen that look on Sarita's face before.

And then Sarita's up from the table and taking both of Katie's hands and dropping to one knee beside her chair and saying, "Marry me," and Katie's breath stops.

"I want to marry you," Sarita says. "I want to be your constant, Katie Jensen, I love you _so_ much and I want you to be mine. I always want it to be you."

Katie bursts into tears. It's a thoroughly inappropriate response, and she can't help it at all. Too many emotions, all mixed together, and Sarita is saying, "I was going to ask you next week, I ordered a ring, it won't be here until then, but I couldn't wait—" and she's crying too and Katie pulls Sarita to her feet and throws both arms around her.

"Yes," she manages, hiccuping. "Yes, yes, _yes."_

Sarita pulls her close and kisses her, a kiss that tastes of rice and soy sauce, and Katie holds her so tight, and when they come up for air, she whispers again, "Yes," and then adds, "I want it to be you too."

Sarita giggles suddenly. "I couldn't even wait a week. I'm such a loser."

"Nah," Katie says. "You're perfect." She kisses Sarita again. "Oh god. We're gonna have to plan a _wedding."_

Sarita laughs again. "Isn't Captain Grif's sister in the event planning business? Maybe we can get her to help." She takes half a step back, takes Katie's hands again. "Guess this is kind of a change, too."

Katie can't help but smile. "Some changes are good."

END


End file.
